(dedicated to the everlasting memory of John Prine, lyricist and singer, who died of Covid 19  on the 8th April)

 

The sky was clear today with streaks of blue

The supermoon with all its lunar perigee 

Swirls in the sky reflect sombre horizons;

Behind my back cumulus clouds mass

Over the hills, conspiring in their usual

Ragged silence. In front of me are drear

Trees laid bare, a mist of water in the air.

The streets deserted, driven inside by Covid.

I'm not yet caught cough, cough, coughing

My habit in the cigarette-smoke-peasoupers

Of the past, I pull my coat tighter, focus keenly

On the patterns of infinitude, half-perceived

And half-created, imposed upon these

Far pavilions, by this over-active mind

Of mine. And all the time, the drag of

Discontent whispers in mine inner-ear:

‘Not here, nor there, not any where!'

....just another day, I'm afraid, to say.